Soft Spot
by Socrates7727
Summary: Deputy Jordan Parrish has always had a... soft spot for the Sheriff's son. He and Stiles have a strange kind of friendship but it works and he loves it. That is, until they're kidnapped by faceless men and held captive. Through torture and fear, they seem like they'll make it through okay in the end. Until Derek is thrown into the mix. Rated M for later chapters, Sterrish, enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

AN I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters! Sterrish full steam ahead hope you like it!

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There was something…. a captivating quality to it. It was sick and twisted but there was something addictive about the way the torture seemed to resonate in Stiles. Like a tuning fork, the impacts and hits went right to his core and only seemed to radiate energy through him, sustaining him rather than tearing him down. While the majority of Parrish's focus was, and always had been, on Stiles, he couldn't ignore the man bound beside him.

Derek Hale stood chained to the chainlink with a low dose of electricity coursing constantly through his body, but he was still. His eyes were blank and empty-dare he say void. Parrish didn't like the way Derek's head lulled slightly to one side or the way his eyelids wavered at half-mast, never raising or lowering. In a situation like this, Derek should have been pumping with adrenaline and more than concerned for Stiles but instead he seemed… calm? Resigned? Whatever it was, it only made Derek even easier to distrust. Parrish wasn't particularly fond of Derek. He hadn't ever been, especially given all the warnings the sheriff had drilled into them over the years, to keep him away from Stiles. But Stiles…. Parrish had a soft spot for Stiles.

Maybe it was working under his dad, seeing the admiration and love for the kid in his boss's eyes for years upon years, but he liked Stiled. He had a mischievous, clever, and amusing way of always skirting right on the edge of trouble that he seemed to have mastered years ago. But even in handcuffs at the station, Stiles had always remembered him. He called him Parrish like everyone else but that hadn't ever put any distance between them. Stiles was one of the few at the station who knew about his daughter-through some less than legal investigating-and always remembered his birthday. Sometimes, it seemed like Stiles was only nice to him to get some leeway whenever he was caught in the middle of something. But, most of the time, especially on Christmas or birthdays or whenever Stiles stopped by to give his dad an apology coffee, Parrish was always reassured with the mysterious appearance of a piece of lemon pound cake on his desk, signed _from a friend_. Stiles went to no great length to conceal that he was the friend, but he never faced Parrish about it if he could help it unless it was his birthday. On his birthday, Stiles would always approach the desk (or leave a note if he was out in the field) with a present that was somehow exactly what he wanted. Every time. And he loved it.

Against his better judgement, Parrish was kind of endeared to Derek by his genuine concern for Stiles wellbeing. But he didn't like that emptiness in Derek's face watching Stiles writhe in pain. Nothing about that situation should have made Derek so quiet-it should have made him scream and fight in rage and indignance. Just looking at it made his stomach churn. The first few times it happened, he yelled to Stiles to hold on and promised that he was going to find a way out but Stiles didn't seem to hear him. He knew it wouldn't take long for Stiles to shatter. Parrish had seen other officers tortured in the field before he knew how easy it was for the torture to overtake everything in a person's reality. But no matter how many times the hooded figure flicked his whip into Stiles' naked flesh or how many times Stiles' scream pierced the air, Stiles refused to answer any of their questions. Derek just watched.

Parrish felt the raw pain deep in his core, but if either of the other two felt it too they did their best to hide it. Derek was stone cold and silent, consistently. But Stiles wouldn't let up, cracking jokes and laughing at his own jokes more than he or Derek ever did. They'd been there for too long-long enough to lose track of the days and the nights-but Stiles couldn't be stopped. No amount of pain or hopelessness seemed to deter him. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, but it made Parrish feel better.

He knew the whole thing was real and he had no doubt that no one was coming for them any time soon or that the wounds in Stiles skin put them in a grave situation. But it never really seemed to sink in how bad the situation was. Until Stiles looked up at him with a bloodied grin, skin torn to shreds and face as pale as death itself, and laughed.

"We're in a hell of a mess, huh Jordan?" Maybe it was the blood in his teeth. Or maybe it was hearing his first name from Stiles' lips for the first time. But something about it just shattered him. He felt the horrible, overpowering urge to do something-anything-to get Stiles out and protect him somehow. And the hopelessness of being just as stuck as he was could have killed him for how strong it was. Beside him, Derek was silent, looking to Stiles across from them. Derek was usually silent, he'd realized. It'd been weeks, maybe months, since they'd been captured and Derek had hardly said three words. To either of them.

"Stiles, we're gonna get out of here, okay? I promise." Stiles just smiled at him and looked to Derek. There was something horribly ominous in Stiles' smile, though, that reeked more of a dying man's last words than of casual banter.

"What do you say Der? You think the pack is coming anytime soon?" Something in Derek's face must have told him no, despite the silence, because Stiles grimaced and nodded. "Didn't think so." He sighed, and kind of sagged in place despite already hanging all his weight on his restraints. Parrish honestly felt for him. Stiles was only nineteen-Parrish kept track of Stiles' birthday as carefully as Stiles' did his-and already he seemed to be accustomed to the torture. As if it didn't bother him. That wasn't true, because it couldn't be, but the impression was eerie nonetheless.

"Hey Jordan, maybe you wanna hand Derek that scrap of metal by your left hand?" As per the new normal, Stiles eyes clouded over as he fell back into the semi-conscious delirium he spent most of his time in. The lucidness left Stiles as quickly as it came but Parrish trusted Stiles without question and stretched his hand despite not being able to see anything. It wasn't like they hadn't tried before, of course. For the first month or so, Parrish and Derek had both tried to reach anything in any direction with any limb but every attempt had ended in a sharp jolt of electricity. This time wasn't any different and Parrish braced against it with a hiss but Stiles' certainty pushed him through it. If Stiles was sure, then he was sure.

His hands clasped around a shard of metal.

It cut deep into his palm as he tried to wrench it from whatever it was attached to. Warm, wet blood dripped down his fingers onto the floor but he grabbed again, feeling the edge slice deeper into his palm. It stung but one glance at Stiles' mangled body was all it took for him to shake that feeling and blink away the tears to keep going. If nineteen year old Stiles could persevere, then dammit so could he.

"Parrish?" He was surprised and almost jumped at Derek's voice next to him. "Don't push too hard. You're losing a lot of blood." The little hint of concern was kind of endearing, actually. Was it possible that Derek's emotionless statue appearance was just an act? Did he actually care about Stiles? About him?

"I almost-" And then it was free. Slippery in his palm and wet with blood but a definite shard of metal with enough arch and edge to be a blade. He couldn't really believe that it was actually in his hand, even though it was throbbing. On instinct, he turned to celebrate with Stiles but was met with glassy eyes and a slack jaw. With a sigh, he turned back to Derek.

"I got it. How do I give it to you?" If he could have turned his head to look, he would have because he was more than afraid that Derek's answers would be as nonverbal as his answers to Stiles were.

"Just push it towards me as far as you can." Thank god. Parrish was not in the mood to waste time or play charades. He did push it, as far as he could without the shard slipping out of his hands, but Derek couldn't reach it. The metal teetered in his grip, slick and slippery and dangerously on the edge of falling to the floor.

"Closer, Parrish, you're almost there." Closer? But it was so close to falling… Like a game of jenga, one move from toppling everything to the ground and with it their only hope for escape. He tried to inch it further but instantly pull it back the second it started to slide.

"I can't. It's slippery and I can't hold it very well." Derek sighed. The deep, soul wavering kind of sigh that came from within and hit just as deep inside Parrish. They both knew what dropping it meant. It meant no freedom. It meant watching Stiles and each other die.

"Do it, I'll catch it."

"Derek, this is our only shot…"

"I know. I'll catch it, Jordan." The first name, combined with the strange newness of Derek's voice in his ear, made him trust Derek a little tiny bit. But a bit was better than nothing, right? So with a deep breath he pushed the shard out towards Derek as far as he could without dropping it and then a little more.

"Derek..." He started to tell him it was slipping, that he wouldn't be able to stop it from falling, but-

"I've got it." When the scrap of metal slid from Parrish's hand, he truly believed that he was sacrificing their only hope of escape. Derek's confidence gave him strength but it didn't stop the doubt entirely and once it was out of his hand, the dread sank like rocks in his gut. His only chance to save Stiles was gone.

But there was no telltale clatter of metal against cement, sealing their fate. To his surprise, he heard a quiet, sawing sound. There was no way… was there? Derek couldn't have actually caught it, not from over a foot away. Could he? Parrish couldn't see anything and, honestly, the blood loss was starting to make him a bit fuzzy but he could have sworn he saw movement to his left. Was Derek loose? That wasn't possible because the shard had fallen and even if it hadn't there was no way to make that saw through chain but… He wanted to believe. He wanted to trust Derek. More than anything, he wanted to put his fate in Derek's hands and have it all miraculously work out.

And then felt Derek's hands on his arm.

"Hey, breathe. It's okay. We're gonna make it out of here. Just stay conscious. I can't carry both of you." Parrish nodded, and felt his wrists fall to his sides. He was… free? It didn't really register but he was a little happy, as if daring to hope it was real. But then Derek's hand was on his arm again, steadying him and helping him take a step forward.

"You can stand?" He nodded. Though it was blurry, he saw Derek move to Stiles and, as he cut the ties, Stiles fell into Derek's arms. The completely trusting and halfway conscious was Stiles collapsed into Derek and the immediate strength with which Derek supported him was inspiring. It made Parrish want to do the same, to have someone else worry about their currently life or death situation for a minute. As if heaven answered him, Derek returned and linked an arm in his. They hobbled, moving slowly but steadily, towards the egress window that Derek had apparently picked as their escape route. He couldn't believe it they were actually escaping!

Derek handed him a cloth and it was caked in dirt or some kind of oil but it stopped the bleeding in his hand so he took it. Had Derek always been this much of a caretaker? Had he really just never noticed? Even with the pack Derek never really seemed to care who was okay and who wasn't as long as no one was dead. Stiles, he understood, because it was hard not to want to protect Stiles from the world around him but Derek was taking care of-was comforting-him too? Oblivious, Derek balled his fist and wrapped it in another cloth before putting it through the window.

The tinkling of glass against the cement was quite possibly the loudest sound Parrish had ever heard. Against the silence, it sounded like a bomb. An alarm, just screaming for their captors. For a second, they all hesitated as if waiting for their hooded torturer to come rushing in at the sound. But there was nothing. They couldn't actually be getting away with this, could they? Not after so long trapped in that hell…

Derek hoisted Stiles up through the window and then turned to him. He'd always heard about the famed werewolf strength but the way Derek lifted him like he was made of air was impressive and maybe kind of hot? No, there wasn't time for that right now. He shook his head at himself and gripped the window's edge with his good hand to help pull himself onto the grass. Soon he was through the window and he pulled Stiles into his lap, hoping to quell that urge in his chest just a little bit in knowing that Stiles was alive, but it did nothing. As he watched Derek's hands and then his upper body appear in the window, he marveled. Derek was certainly strong outside of the electrocution. To his surprise, again, Derek hoisted Stiles into his arms and braced Parrish against his side. With a deep breath, Derek began to walk, doing the work of three men by himself and saving them all. Parrish had secretly expected the wolf to run for it and save himself as soon as they were out.

Clearly, though, he'd been wrong. Together, they huddled in a little pack of three and headed for the treeline. Only once they were safely blanketed in the forest did they finally start to slow. It felt like it had been hours since they'd escaped but if he thought about it, maybe it'd been seconds? Losing the ability to tell time was one of the smaller concerns Parrish had been dealing with over the span-however long it was-of their torture.

"We should get him to the hospital." Derek nodded, but didn't stop moving.

"You too. That hand is getting worse." Parrish at least gave a sorry attempt at a nod in Derek's direction. Again, that slight undertone of concern. It was almost kind of sweet, actually, the more he thought about it that Derek Hale-a man who had lost everyone he ever loved, according to the police reports-was taking care of him. Stiles was pack or at least close to it and Parrish had always wondered if there was a little something more between him and Derek, enough to warrant concern, but to Derek Parrish was a complete stranger. A nobody. And here he was, looking out for him. Taking care of him. That idea was just so foreign to him it was almost more disconcerting than any of the physical symptoms he was experiencing.

As they walked, Parrish gradually faded in and out of consciousness. But, every time he did come to, they were surrounded by darkness and foliage and a terrifying silence that made him feel like he was a little kid again, afraid of the dark. Derek was always right there, though. Sometimes carrying him, sometimes holding him up or acting as his crutch, and sometimes just keeping his hand reassuringly on Parrish's shoulder but always touching. Somehow that warm, that energy and reassurance, gave him the ability to keep walking. He still faded, but just because his mind lapsed didn't mean his legs did. Until, suddenly, when he opened his eyes, he was looking up into Melissa's.

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Hope you liked it! Updating soon (I hope) and as always, please follow, favorite, and review!

Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. I don't own Teen Wolf or it's characters!

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When Parrish woke up to sunlight hot on his face, he could feel bandages all over his body. That was… strange. It wasn't like he'd been hurt, right? Behind him, he could hear a heart monitor's dull beeping. That wasn't for him, of course. It couldn't be. Why would he have been in the hospital in the first... Oh.

Suddenly, he wished he hadn't remembered.

Melissa appeared beside him almost instantly, seemingly in response to the quickening beeps of the heart monitor, and her voice tried in vain to calm him but he didn't really care. There was something more important, more than anxiety or a fear of hospitals, but he just couldn't quite remember it.

"Stiles and Derek." It wasn't a question but he meant it to be and Melissa's frantic reassurances stopped immediately. If anything, it seemed to surprise him more than her when he mushed their names together, with equal concern. As far as she knew, there was no reason for him to give two shits about Derek. But Derek wasn't just some moody, bad boy stranger anymore. He'd saved his life and, whether it was that fact or something else entirely, Parrish felt the same urge to know if he was safe as he did for Stiles.

"They're okay. Stiles woke up yesterday and he's in a hundred pieces but we got him all patched up and he's stable. Cracking jokes and asking about you. Derek is still unconscious but healing." Thank god. Parrish wasn't sure what he would have done if either of them hadn't been okay. Relief washed over him as it sank in. Stiles and Derek were safe. They were safe, and so was he. It just seemed so surreal, like a dream rather than reality, and he was half waiting to wake up back in that basement. But he'd just woken up and didn't plan on closing his eyes any time soon, so he forced that worry to the back of his mind and tried to focus through the haze of sedatives. He should thank Derek, he realized, for saving them.

"Can I see them?" Melissa's face seemed to relax a bit at the question. Was she afraid of him? It didn't seem to make sense but nothing else had been making much sense lately anyways so he wouldn't have been shocked. After a minute, she placed a hand on the rail of his hospital bed. He was secretly thankful she didn't touch him.

"Sorry, hon, but no. Stiles can't be moved from his sterile room until he's healed a bit more and they don't want to move Derek until he's conscious. But they're alright, I promise." For some reason, that did nothing for the ache starting in the pit of his stomach. He needed to see them. Not because he didn't believe her that they were okay-he trusted Melissa because Stiles and Derek both trusted her, and he believed her-but because he suddenly felt very, very alone. The kind of alone that started in his chest and seized his lungs. The kind of alone that made his whole body tremble and threatened to spark a panic attack. Something in his face must have shifted because Melissa took a step back and nodded to him as if she suddenly understood.

"I'll find a way, just hold on."

Melissa returned less than two minutes later with a cellphone in her hand showing Stiles' face. She handed it to him without a word, just a smile. But he couldn't even thank her before Stiles' voice was blaring through the little speaker at a hundred miles per minute.

" _OhmygodParrish areyouokay!? I'vebeensoworriedohmygod_ -"

"Stiles." Melissa dismissed herself with a little nod and Stiles finally took a breath, giving him an opening, so he took it without saying thank you because she was already gone.

"Stiles, I'm okay. Are you okay? How's Derek?" Stiles smiled, his tooth chipped and his lip scabbing over, but it was a smile nevertheless.

"I'm still kicking. But besides that, I don't really know much. Derek still hasn't woken up but he's tough, you know, so I'm not really worried about him. I…" It wasn't like Stiles to be speechless so Parrish waited. "I haven't been able to sleep at all." The drop in his tone told Parrish everything he needed to know about how rough it had been while he'd been out.

"What do you want me to do to help?" Stiles crinkled his face into a little scowl but it was honestly adorable. It made him smile a bit.

"I've got a plan."

And so, that night, when Melissa came in to check his vitals around midnight, he made sure to groan and toss in the bed. Melissa woke him, just like Stiles said she would, and sighed.

"You too, huh?" Apparently, Derek was awake now-woken from a night terror, not a coma-and Melissa's concern was only growing. She left, worried and quiet, and told him to go back to sleep. Honestly, though, Parrish hadn't realized how significant the heartbeats he'd gotten so used to hearing were until they were gone. In their absence was just... emptiness and sadness.

The next morning, Melissa clearly is convinced that the lack of sleep is negatively affecting all three of them. So, Melissa finally caved, and came to him.

"What would help? Be honest. You're the adult in this situation and yes, I know there's Derek but he scares me so… what would help?" She sighed, biting her lip as she looked to him as if he could solve all of their problems.

"Honestly, being together."

"Okay. I'll find a way."

"Just like that?" Melissa shrugged.

"Yeah, just like that. Derek's blood pressure is scary low, and Stiles is starting to fade in and out of consciousness again. If you think that will help, I can't really afford to not try it."

So, that was what happened. Melissa spent about ten minute talking to someone-a supervisor, maybe?-before she returned with two other nurses and they wheeled his bed down the hall and around the corner. It was Derek's room, he realized, and god Derek looked like death. His skin was pale, his face was twisted in something like a grimace, and all the machines surrounding him with their whirring dwarfed the man.

They slid his bed in between the window and Derek's bed, maneuvering around the machines and wires to position him just right. When they locked the wheels on his bed, he reached over and took Derek's hand. Instantly, the heart rate monitor spiked but it didn't increase too much so the nurses didn't make him stop. Stiles was wheeled in a few minutes later. His lips were in a thin smile but he didn't look great. They smiled to each other a bit but the sleeping man between them seemed to be signal enough to keep quiet.

Stiles took Derek's other hand and, again, the monitor spiked. But Derek's breathing slowed, as if he was asleep, so the nurses let it be. Melissa nodded to him and smiled to Stiles before disappearing but it didn't even really matter. Before she was out of the room, he was asleep and he knew Stiles was in the same state.

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Thanks for reading! Updates to come I just have to edit them... As always, please favorite, follow, review, and share!


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. I do not own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters!

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" _Two choices, Stiles… Tick. Tock." Derek couldn't hear anything Stiles said over his own screaming and begging. "You, or Derek." The hooded figure began to tap his fingers on the panel near the buttons. He screamed, his throat raw and his voice cracking, pleading Stiles to choose him, to let him take it again._

" _Derek I can't! You don't deserve-"_

" _STILES!" Even Parrish looked scared when he roared, bearing his teeth and fighting back a shift. He stared down Stiles, his eyes burning red, and tried with every part of him to make Stiles understand that he needed it to be him. He needed to take the pain, to protect Stiles. More than ever before, he needed Stiles to understand how much more it would tear him down to watch Stiles suffer than to take the torture himself._

" _Der…" Stiles was crying, tears rolling off his face like waterfalls as he shook and trembled where he was tied. "Der, I can't… You don't deserve-... I can take…" But Derek forced his eyes to bore into Stiles'._

" _I- can handle-" He stopped, hating how weak his voice made him sound and the way it made Stiles hesitate. "Just… not you." The figure laughed, bouncing his finger between the two buttons. Red for Derek, white for Stiles._

" _Tick. Tock. Time to choose. So cute, protecting each other… All torn up over this. As if he won't heal." The figure gestured to Derek. "So, Stiles, your choice?" Stiles let his lower lip tremble and he looked into Derek's eyes, obviously in pain and concerned. But Derek just looked back at him, trying to look strong._

" _Please…" he whispered, hoping Stiles could see it. He should have been begging Stiles to choose anyone else-but he couldn't. It hurt like hell and he wanted to die, but he wasn't going to watch Stiles suffer._

" _Derek." One word and just like before the figure gleefully punched the button down. Red for Derek, white for Stiles. Red for Derek… He screamed before he even felt the pain, not realizing he'd even opened his mouth until suddenly it, and every other joint in his body, seized and locked. He tried to thrash but was held by the chains. His stomach churned and twisted as the pain coursed through his body, turning his body inside out again and again._

 _Finally, he could breathe. As the pain dwindled, stinging in his fingertips, he took in a breath as far his lungs would allow and lulled his head back again the cement. His whole body shook and spasmed no matter how hard he tried to hold still._

" _Ooo! That one was a doozie, wasn't it Derek? I guess I bumped the intensity switch. Silly me." To his side, Parrish cursed at the figure but he sounded far away and weird, like he was underwater, so he couldn't understand anything he said. Stiles screamed, yelling at the figure to stop and at Derek to just hold on._

" _Who will it be this time, Stiles? Tick tock." Stiles looked to him but Derek didn't have the voice to tell him what to do this time. He tried, willing his eyes to convey the message, but Stiles just shook his head over and over again, mouthing to him: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

" _Who, Stiles. I don't have all day." I'm sorry, Der._

" _Me." The figure laughed with joy and smiled to Stiles but it made Derek sick._

" _Well isn't this a surprise? Very well." And when that gloved hand slammed down on the button, it wasn't red. It was white. Stiles' entire body seized and thrashed but Derek couldn't take his eyes off of it. Watching Stiles in so much pain, unable to breathe or escape…_

Derek woke up drenched in sweat and screaming. Beside him, Stiles sat up and hugged him tight but it was all Derek could do to cling to him and try to breathe, let alone apologize or explain. Parrish stood slowly, dragging his IV stand behind him, and moved to the other side of his bed, offering him a little paper cup of water and placing a cool wet washcloth against his forehead. Nurses rushed in, including Melissa, and tried to push them away from him but Derek shook and held them both so tightly that the nurses began to hesitate. Melissa urged them out and silenced Derek's heart monitor. Once the door was closed, Melissa laid a hand on Stiles' leg.

"You guys okay?" Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw Parrish nod and then felt a larger, calloused hand rub gently between his shoulder blades. Stiles nodded, too, and pulled Derek to rest his head on his chest. Finally, Derek nodded. He kept his eyes closed but heard Melissa let out a breath.

"Do what you can to get some rest, okay boys?" None of them said anything but she excused herself anyways, dimming the lights again and closing the door behind her.

"Der…?" But Derek shook his head and just hugged Stiles. They made room and pulled Parrish onto the bed to hug Derek's other side but neither closed their eyes, just trying to calm him. Only once his heartrate slowed to a normal, even rhythm did he feel Stiles fall asleep against his side. On the other, Parrish pressed his forehead against Derek's temple and fell asleep as well. Derek felt so raw and protected, surrounded by warmth and security, that despite the lingering fear he felt himself fading out of consciousness. And, before he could start to overthink or panic again, he was asleep as well.

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Thanks for reading! As always, please review, follow, favorite, and so on.


	4. Chapter 4

A.N. I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters!

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Once they started being able to sleep again, it only took a few days for Derek to heal. Parrish was still amazed, trying in vain to understand how the hell even supernatural power could mend such a broken body so quickly. But, even if Derek's body was healed, that didn't mean that Derek was. Melissa kept him admitted and altered his charts to delay suspicion about his healing but he still woke up every night, mid-nightmare.

Melissa discharged Derek when she discharged Parrish, probably thinking they would look after each other or something, but there wasn't a chance to test that theory because they refused to leave Stiles. Melissa tried to force them out with rules and regulations, which Parrish almost gave in to, but Derek refused and Stiles swore up and down that he wouldn't sleep without them. No sleep, meant no healing. So Melissa caved. Stiles, in all his tortured humaneness, looked like death. It was impossible to look into his sad, puppy-dog eyes and not give him whatever he asked for and Stiles was milking it indefinitely. No matter how much he smiled and cracked jokes, Parrish couldn't stop the churning in his stomach. Both he and Derek worried over him constantly.

They were each secretly dreading the day Stiles would be released, but all for the same reason: they could never go back to this. It didn't matter what happened, without Stiles there was no reason for them to be together. If they lost this situation, they all knew they would lose this.. closeness.

But, like it or not-and Parrish did not-Stiles was released into the watchful care of Sheriff Stilinski. When the man strode into the hospital waiting room, it was clear he had no love for Derek. Before they could explain the situation or even look to Melissa, the sheriff had his hands on Stiles' shoulders and was steering him towards the door. Thankfully, Stiles couldn't walk that fast still so there was a beat of silence where Derek and Parrish looked to each other. Derek seemed to understand, given the anxiety in his face, but it was clear the sheriff did not want anything to do with him. Until now, Parrish had forgotten how deep the sheriff's distrust of the Hale ran… How often he'd told the deputies to keep him away from Stiles.

"Wait, sir…" The sheriff stopped, as stiff as a board.

"Bye, Parrish." And that was it. That was the end… of whatever they wanted to call this. Nothing but glares for Derek, and two little words for Parrish and it was done. Stiles was gone.

Outside, they watched the sheriff help Stiles into the passenger seat. He looked sad, almost. He knew it was the end too. From the car, he gave them a little wave but it fell flat halfway through and instead, all they could do was watch his expression fall with it.

As soon as they were out of sight, Melissa gave them both a sympathetic little touch on the arm and started suggesting they have a movie night or something but Parrish stopped listening. No more Stiles? He looked to Derek and saw the same thought cross his face. No Stiles? But Stiles was… their everything. Parrish honestly should have been surprised how shattered Derek looked, but he wasn't-because he knew his expression was the same. Melissa said something about still having each other but it wasn't right. She left them with another touch on their shoulders and a nudge towards the door but they both just stood there, looking at each other as if one of them would suddenly know how to recover from this.

Melissa was right, they did have each other. They were still out, away from that hooded figure and that hellhole of a basement. But… they were also away from Stiles. Without Stiles, there seemed to be this new barrier between them like a wedge that only drove them farther apart the longer Stiles was gone.

So, Parrish got in his cab and Derek got in his. They drove off in separate directions, each secretly sneaking glances back in the mirror, and neither said a word. Neither told the cabbie to turn back… Parrish was in a fog still but he vaguely registered trying to pay the cab driver. The driver shook his head; Melissa had already paid. Grabbing at his pockets, Parrish realized he didn't even have his wallet and they weren't even his pants. He wanted to throw up. Inside, Marta met him at the door with a smile that said she had heard what happened. She asked if he wanted her to go up with him or just give him a new key but Parrish couldn't make his mouth respond. Marta nodded and lead him up the stairs.

She walked into his apartment with him, directing him towards the bedroom and reassuring him that she would leave the key on the dresser and lock the door on her way out. She didn't leave until he was in bed. He may have been in his twenties now but she had still practically adopted him. He heard her leave.

His brain wouldn't get much farther than observing what was happening as it happened. Once Marta was gone, though, there wasn't anything for him to observe except the rustling of curtains and the dancing of shadows on the walls. Every nerve in his body was on edge. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The silence was too loud and too endless without steady heartbeats marking its rhythm.

But he couldn't get up, either. He was exhausted and achy all over, but he couldn't close his eyes without feeling his chest constrict and hands all over his body. He wanted to die. But he'd held on for so long… Derek and Stiles both had done so much to keep him alive… He couldn't just give up. But there wasn't really anything to give up on. He was just stuck there, awake and miserable and exhausted. The nightmares would be hell on earth and being awake was better, even if it didn't feel that way right now. He knew that, at least in theory.

So he laid there.

And he laid there.

And he laid there.

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Thanks for reading! More updates soon, I promise. I have it all written I just have to edit it :/ As always, please review, favorite, follow, and such!


	5. Chapter 5

A.N. I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters!

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Parrish hadn't slept in days. He stared blankly at the wall, not thinking or moving except in circles around himself. Someone knocked and Marta must have let them in because he heard footsteps but that was all his mind could register. He probably should have cared who it was or why they were there but.. he didn't. He couldn't. It could have even been the hooded man and he wouldn't have moved from his position on the bed.

"Parrish?" He didn't answer, but the female voice was a relief internally. "...Jordan?" That was more hesitant, more full of worry or maybe even concern? But he groaned in response, to at least show the person he was alive. Melissa opened the door a crack and then stepped in.

"Hey, honey. You look like shit." She opened the curtain-only one, or it would have been too bright-and sat on the edge of the bed near him.

"Jordan, honey. Are you alright?" He just stared at the wall. "Jordan?" She reached out and touched his arm but, somehow, that didn't take the usual thirty seconds to process. Instead, his body jerked him away before he even realized she'd touched him and he hit the wall behind him with a thud. The way her face furrowed into worry was slightly disarming.

"Sorry, hon. I didn't mean to scare you. I just… Please, Jordan, come here. Let me see your eyes." He hesitated, watching her for any sign that she had some kind of agenda, but scooted towards her after a minute. She laid a hand on his cheek, even when he flinched. Slowly, she turned his face to look into his eyes and sighed, rubbing her thumb along his cheek like a mother hen.

"You're as bad as he is, hon. Come on. I talked to John and Stiles is just as bad. He can't heal like this and it doesn't look like you can either. Come on, honey. Stiles needs you." The words were gibberish to him, just the vague warmth of the nickname, but he heard the last part. Stiles needed him. At that, he stood. He suddenly had the energy to move, though only a little bit, and he followed Melissa to her car without question.

"Do you know where Derek lives, honey?" Her voice was gentle and smooth, like a salve over his wounds, and he nodded. He took her phone and found a landmark he knew on the map before following the roads the way he knew to the apartment complex. He didn't know the address, exactly, but he'd driven the route to it a hundred times whenever there was a slow night shift and the sheriff asked him to drive by. Pointing, he handed the phone back to her and she pinpointed the apartment complex with a little nod.

"Thank you, hon. We'll go get him and then I'll take you guys to Stiles."

They stopped outside the familiar building and he waited in the car while she went inside. He couldn't tell how much time passed before she came back, but it felt like centuries. Derek was behind her, dragging his feet and slurring his steps as bad as his words. His eyes were blurred and red, his face was shallow and empty. When Melissa guided him into the backseat, Parrish immediately felt his presence. He relaxed, even if it wasn't enough to sleep.

Between then, and stopping outside of Stiles' house, there was an infinite amount of space. It wasn't literal space, or space in time. But it was space in his head-empty, where thoughts should have been-that seemed to pass like years when it should have been seconds. The only thing occupying the space was his awareness of Derek sitting behind him, his heartbeat fighting back the silence.

When they stopped, Melissa helped them both out of the car and leaned them on each other before leading them up to the front door. She knocked, but opened it before anyone came. Inside, the sheriff glared but Melissa made eye contact and, apparently, won because the sheriff turned away and went upstairs.

"It's okay, boys. I talked to him. He'll get over himself eventually." She led them into a living room where Stiles was huddled in a ball on the couch, still covered in bandages. At the sight of them, Stiles' face lit up a bit-though, that wasn't saying much. He offered a weak, exhausted smile. The silence was suffocating as they all stood, as if waiting for permission or something.

"Go on, boys. Stiles, let me help you sit up." She did, gently pushing Derek down beside him and Parrish on the other side. They curled into Stiles without her instruction, each taking an arm and hugging it like a child cuddling a teddy bear, and Stiles twisted as much as his injuries would allow. He threw his legs across Derek's lap and slid his head down onto Parrish's shoulder, sighing as he settled.

"Sleep tight, boys. Just yell if you need anything, okay?" None of them nodded, but they didn't need to. She just excused herself quietly to the next room. He curled his legs in and nuzzled Stiles' throat but he didn't realize how… primal that was until he felt it in his gut. But he was tired. No, exhausted. And he didn't care to figure out his emotions or his thoughts especially not towards Stiles when he was relaxed and able to sleep. He let out a deep breath. A hand covered his on Stiles' chest but it was broad, calloused, and strong-Derek's hand. With a squeeze of reassurance from Derek, he was asleep.

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Thanks for reading! I really like Melissa as a surrogate mother to Derek and Jordan as well as Stiles. Thoughts? As always, please review, follow, favorite, and share!


	6. Chapter 6

A.N. Sorry it's short but I will be updating more often and, as always, I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters!

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It only took two days for the next call from Melissa, summoning them out into her car again like a soccer mom gathering her little ducklings. And, in the grand scheme of things, two days wasn't very long. It had been much longer when Melissa first came for him, and he didn't doubt that it would be even longer than that once Stiles healed more. But it still felt like forever.

The Sheriff let them stay, under Melissa's watchful gaze, for the afternoon and he let Stiles invite them over more often-but always during the day, and never for more than a couple hours. It helped, indefinitely, but… it wasn't enough. Parrish hated to think it, let alone say it, but it wasn't enough. Every time the Sheriff elbowed them out of the house, he and Derek would hesitate on that ice cold porch in the fading light a little bit longer. Their eyes never met, but it didn't matter. No matter how much either of them wanted to say or do something about their situation, they both eventually just parted ways and retreated back their own empty apartments.

Sometimes, Parrish drank. Never that much, of course, but even a little was exponentially more than his usual sobriety. It relaxed him for a little while, enough to watch a movie or doze off, but when it wore off everything was a hundred times worse. Sometimes it was worth it, sometimes not. The nightmares came to life in his haze, and his whole body trembled and spasmed like some kind of fit. Usually, he threw up-or at least he tried to, even if he hadn't eaten anything in days. His body still heaved and lurched for hours, no matter what he did.

He hadn't been drinking that night… Or had he? He remembered drinking when it was still light out, enough to put him out of his misery for a few hours, and he remembered passing out. But, by that point, he'd either thrown it all up or used up whatever effect the alcohol was going to have. Now, he just felt weak. Every little noise thwacked in his chest like thunder, even though he didn't have the energy to flinch at it anymore. He was so jumpy it was damn near ridiculous.

 _Fuc-! What the!_ His mouth let out the scream before his mind even registered the sound but the knock at his door was enough stimulus, apparently, to get him off the couch. He stumbled and lurched like a drunkard but he made it to the door.

"Who-" He gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Is it?"

"It's me." Instantly, he knew the voice. It was low and breathy and desperate just like his own but it was deeper and more gruff, more… manly. He shouldn't have been thinking about- ah, what the hell. He was delirious, anyways, right? His hand gripped the cold metal of the knob and twisted, his mind still trying to think or not think about how strong and how powerful Derek was.

But Derek was. He looked like shit and the bags under his eyes might as well have been gucci but he was strong. Every inch of the man-wolf, whatever-just exuded power and strength, both of himself and of others. It made him even more irresistible. Parrish could imagine just stepping forward, falling into those muscled arms, and feeling them cinch and catch him. Was it so bad to want to be caught?

"Not sleeping." It wasn't a question but Parrish nodded and then, suddenly, he didn't have to take that step forward because Derek did. He didn't have to collapse to the ground because Derek wrapped him in his arms and held him steady. His mouth opened, trying to explain but…

"It's okay… I- I know… I know." Parrish tried to breathe, but his lungs just filled with the scent of Derek. "I can't… drive- Like this." But he just nodded, because he understood. Derek's hands shook against his lower back and Derek's breath trembled out against the hollow of his throat and he understood. He hugged and clung to Derek so tightly… Maybe he thought it would put them both back together a little bit.

But it didn't matter. A hug couldn't fix them and neither could lying awake staring at the ceiling for hours at a time. With his arms around Derek's shoulders, it only took a little nudge to drag them both backwards into the apartment and down onto the couch. Derek threw a pillow at the door, closing it, and Parrish pulled a blanket over them.

The alpha-god he loved how that sounded… the _alpha_ -had been through more in that moment, though. Even if Parrish didn't have much energy or sense, he knew that. The drive over must have been hell and trying to figure out where he lived must have been even harder on no sleep… Just thinking about it was exhausting. So he tried to do what he could. He shifted them on the couch to pull Derek's arms out from under them so they wouldn't go numb. He pulled Derek to one side, and then halfway on top of him. He rubbed small circles between the alpha's shoulder blades, feeling the muscle relax beneath the thin layer of cloth. And, when he was ninety nine percent sure that Derek was asleep, he tangled his hand in the man's brown locks, gently… but then a little less gently. Until he was tugging at the strands, scratching lightly down to the base of Derek's skull. Derek _moaned_.

It was enough to make him stop. But Derek whined and nuzzled closer, against his stomach and then against his chest. Parrish couldn't help himself… He kept going, playing with Derek's hair and rubbing his back until he felt the man relax against him and lose a bit of his desperation. Really, that's all Derek was… A man. He may have been the alpha, and he may have been a werewolf, but the person huddled against his chest was just that: a person. A person who was hurt, and scared.

A person.

Just like him.

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Thanks for reading! I promise I'll either make the next update longer, or sooner. As always, please review, follow, favorite, and so on!


	7. Chapter 7

AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of it's characters. Also, sorry for shortness.

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When Parrish woke up, it was light out. The world had narrowed long before that moment-somewhere because hospital beds and watching Stiles walk away-into little pinpoints of information. Waking up. Noticing the light outside. Feeling Derek in the room with him. He didn't really care to comprehend anything more than that, to be honest. Content to lay there and fall back asleep again, he didn't open his eyes or move but he forgot about the stupid wolf senses. Derek must have heard his heartrate change. He sat up in the bed.

Derek didn't say a word, just took his hand and gestured towards the door. Parrish followed without a word and slid into the passenger seat of the camaro. Derek swerved a bit and gripped the wheel too tight but they pulled up in front of an apartment building in one piece and really that was all Parrish could ask for. Derek led him to a loft on the top floor and let him in. Without so much as a hello, Derek led him to the bedroom and motioned to the bed, which Parrish gratefully crashed onto. It smelled like Derek and that alone put him sleep almost instantly. Derek lay down beside him, not touching but close enough in the smallish bed that he could feel his warmth and his breathing, and that was it for Parrish. He was out like a light.

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When Parrish woke up, it was light outside. Again, that was the first thing he noticed and seemed to focus on it. He glanced at the clock and saw a four but it was too bright to be four am which mean it was four in the afternoon. Well damn. He really was exhausted. He made food with what little food Derek had-toast with jam, and two eggs-and he had it ready for Derek when he approached silently from the bedroom in just sweats. Parrish looked without shame, sliding over the creases in the muscle and hesitating on the scars. They watched TV and didn't really talk, and after a few hours, they were both still exhausted enough that they went back to sleep again but not before they both texted Stiles to check in with him.

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When they saw Stiles the next time, they both seemed a bit brighter and more alive which only made Stiles look worse. His dad was against it but Stiles was irritable and moody from sleep deprivation and he'd mostly healed. His confidence returned, or at least it looked like it had, when he stood between Parrish and Derek like they were his bodyguards. And he was nineteen so, when he dad yelled that he wasn't going to leave the house, Stiles did it anyways. He promised to be careful, over the sound of his dad's yelling, and promised to let Melissa know where he was going but he didn't appear to have any regrets. He told them that he didn't in the car ride home.

When they got to Derek's loft, Parrish couldn't help noticing the way Stiles moved around it like it was familiar and that Stiles knew where the bedroom was without asking. He was exhausted, though, and looked half dead so Parrish didn't ask. When Stiles collapsed onto the bed in the middle, neither he nor Derek had to even make eye contact before taking their respective sides and each hugging or curling into him in their own way.

Stiles was asleep within minutes, but both of them were well rested and awake for once. Once it became clear that Stiles was completely out, Derek raised his voice to a whisper, though it felt like a shout in the silence.

"Hey, how's your hand?"

"Better, thank you. Infected, at first, but almost healed now. Your skin?" Across the mattress, Derek let out a small sigh.

"I healed the day we got out." Right a werewolf, he was a werewolf, and werewolf healed faster. Parrish kept forgetting that.

"Derek?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you get the nightmares too?" There was a long pause, in which Derek seemed to be considering something, and Parrish noted that Derek was tracing slow patterns on Stiles' arm. But Parrish didn't understand what made it such a complicated question. He either did or he didn't, right?

"Not when I'm with you." It was clear from his tone that the _you_ meant him and Stiles, not just him. It was weird, but hearing that didn't feel weird. It felt… normal. Like he and Stiles were just meant to be lumped together into a single word.

"Why," Derek fired back. "Do you?" Parrish bit his lip. It wasn't really fair to ask that and not answer it in return but he hadn't planned on Derek turning the question back on him.

"Not when I'm with you." Derek nodded, as if to say it was settled then. Parrish wasn't sure if Derek could tell, but he didn't plan on spending a night alone again for a very long time-if ever. There was a long bout of silence that let Parrish get lost in this thoughts, wondering about Stiles and assessing bandages and trying to remember if he had any spare clothes at Derek's or not, but Derek's voice startled him out of it. He almost jumped, but stopped himself at the last minute to keep from waking Stiles.

"Hey Parrish?" For a deputy and an older (he thinks) man than Derek, Parrish was practically submissive. Maybe it was because Derek had saved them all or maybe it was because he was just so fucking tired of feeling weak and out of control but he didn't hate it. He actually kind of liked it.

"Yeah?"

"Can I call you Jordan?" That surprised him more than pretty much any question Derek could have asked. He had expected any number of things from injuries to pasts to what kind of jam he'd used on the toast that morning but he hadn't expected that. Derek had called him Jordan already, actually, but that, it seemed, was more for shock value and impact then than actually calling him it for real. He'd gone back to Parrish as soon as they'd made it to the hospital. But it was Derek for crying out loud! He'd saved them.

"Why would you think that you couldn't?" He felt Derek shrug through Stiles. Amazing how connecting their bodies even in the simplest of ways let him feel Derek through Stiles.

"Everyone calls you Parrish. Stiles called you Jordan those few times but he seemed closer to you than I ever was and I thought maybe he had earned that right. I didn't want to use it if I hadn't earned it." Parrish laughed. He had to laugh at the idea of Derek not having earned something from him.

"Derek, you saved my life. You can call me whatever the hell you want." The humor vanished the room when Derek was still silent and Parrish realized it wasn't a joking kind of thing. "But, seriously, you can. Actually… Call me Jordan. Please."

"You sure?" Derek's voice in the silence was a relief more than anything.

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's more…"

"Personal" He nodded. More silence, but this time it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable and it was more centered around Stiles' breathing than anything else. Better than before, when it had been focused on their discomfort with each other.

"Hey Jordan?" He hummed to show he was listening. "Please don't' ever go back." A snort escaped his mouth before he remembered to be quiet, but Stiles didn't even stir. The poor kid was probably sleeping for the first real time in weeks. But how could Derek think he would ever go back to that _place_?

"Back where? To that basement? I wouldn't dream of it, trust me-"

"No, back to your apartment." Derek's voice was so serious and low that it almost scared him "Or, if you do, take us with you." He was surprised to say the least but he nodded. It wasn't like he wanted to leave, anyways.

"I won't." He heard Derek shift on the other side of Stiles and move onto his side. As he watched Stiles', a hand appeared on the boys' stomach, rising and falling with his every breath. After a second of hesitation, Parrish steeled himself and reached out to take the hand in his. He could feel Derek's surprise but neither of them said a word-either because of Stiles or because of the moment-and eventually Derek intertwined their fingers. That, combined with the thump of Stiles' heartbeat was enough to lull him to sleep again.

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Thanks for reading! As always, please favorite/follow/review and share!


	8. Chapter 8

AN I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters. Second update in under an hour! That's my consolation prize for you, I suppose. Enjoy!

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It went unquestioned, somehow, how the three of them somehow came to live together. More and more of Parrish' and Stiles' things just seemed to end up in the loft. Stiles came in with a white face and teary expression, every now and then, carrying a duffel bag and they knew without asking that he'd had another fight with his dad. But every time they just put his stuff away, adding it to the ever growing collection. Usually, they made hot cocoa and cuddled on the couch until Stiles felt better. Parrish still had his apartment, because he wasn't really sure what this was yet, but he barely lived there anymore. Until, one night, Parrish came home from work to see Derek and Stiles sitting together on the couch. It wasn't unusual-actually, he would have been more worried if they hadn't been curled up together somehow-but Stiles jumped up and hugged him as soon as he was through the door.

"Thank god you're here! Derek has something to tell us but he wouldn't say it until you got home and the suspense has been absolutely killing me!" Parrish just laughed and hugged him back. Something about Stiles made it pretty damn hard to not be in a good mood.

"What is it, Der?" The nickname had causally grown on him and Derek actually seemed to like it, which was a nice change. With a small smile, the wolf relented.

"Welcome home. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you both about." The wording was anxiety inducing but the tone was happy? So both Parrish and Stiles took a seat on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, waiting.

"I have a present for each of you." Two little boxes appeared in Derek's hands, pulled from one of the drawers in the coffee table, one dark blue and one dark green. Derek handed them each one: blue for Stiles, green for Parrish.

"Can we..?" Stiles didn't even get to the word open them before Derek smiled and nodded. They both tore into the little packages with glee, indistinguishable from each other. Stiles tore into the tissue paper like a child on christmas and Parrish tore like someone who'd been living alone since he was sixteen and never had time for friends or presents. Inside, was a small velvet bag that matched the box. And inside that… a silver key.

"Derek…" he started, Stiles still speechless, but Derek interrupted. His face was solemn and his tone hinted at anxiety but there was a bit of hope there too.

"Let me explain. These are keys,"

"Yes we can see that, genius" He glared at Stiles, even though it was playful.

"To the loft." Derek finally said. There was anxiety in his face but Parrish understood it now-the anxiety behind being rejected, not breaking up with people.

"Derek, are you…?" At that, Derek flashed him a little smile. There was something between them, an understanding that came with maturity and not still living at home, and Derek's smile reassured him.

"Yes, I'm sure. This is me, officially asking you both to move in with me." Stiles squealed and threw his arms around Derek, exploding into a litany of oh my god and yes yes yes yes! But Parrish was more reserved. He was happy, there was no doubt about that, but he was much more hesitant and careful than Stiles. Unlike Stiles, he did have somewhere else to go and he knew the consequences of moving in with someone. Over Stiles shoulder, still hugging him, Derek met his eyes with a question. Derek must have seen the anxiety in his face because he offered a smile and nodded to him that he understood. Glancing at Stiles, still rambling and excitedly hugging and thanking Derek, Parrish hesitated yet again.

He let his eyes flick up and find Derek's. Slowly, he mouthed to him. _Is this real?_ He was too cynical and too skeptical not to have his concerns but Derek's small smile said he wasn't mad, that he understood. Slowly, he nodded. _I mean it, Jordan._ At that, he wasn't sure why, but he suddenly decided. Right then and there, even though his mind wasn't totally on board yet, his gut had made a decision and ultimately he knew that he was going to follow it. Because he trusted his instincts. And his instincts said this was good-that Stiles and Derek weren't threats, they were home. He smiled, wide this time and still holding the key, and joined the hug as both men pull him in.

"This calls for a celebration!" Stiles declared. Derek broke out champagne and red wine and it didn't take long before they were all a little wine drunk. Derek… Derek was drunk on something else. Elation, if Parrish had to guess. But either way they were all happy and celebrating and overall just being there, present and open with each other.

Until suddenly it was dark out and the kind of silent that only two or three am brought with it and Stiles was staring off into space talking about losing his mother. He talked about her waffles, how they were the best in the world. He promised to make them for them sometime. Talked about how he wasn't allowed to see her in the months leading up to her death so he had no idea what she even looked like until the funeral. It was easy for a seven year old to forget. He talked about the distance it put between him and his dad, even now, and how he always sort of thought his dad blamed him for it because they found the cancer during his ultrasound. Parrish grit his teeth at it, but didn't say anything.

Stiles went quiet but neither of them moved to comfort him, they didn't need to. The air around them, huddled in a little triangle on the carpet like kids at a sleepover, was enough of a comfort. He knew vaguely about the fire and Stiles seemed to know more but, soon Derek was talking, sharing. He talked about his mother, Talia, and how much he loved her. His three sisters and how they always teamed up against him. About Paige, and what made his eyes turn blue. About Kate. The name alone made Stiles stiffen and grit his teeth. Parrish reacted the same way, despite not even knowing the story.

Once he heard it, he was filled with such anger and hatred that merely bristling didn't seem sufficient. He couldn't help it. He hugged Derek, as tight an as comforting as he could, and was surprised when he pulled away to see tears in Derek's eyes. Even through the torture he'd never seen Derek cry. His face clearly was questioning, though, so Derek just gave a small smile.

"I trust you." Again that _you_ that meant both he and Stiles. It was becoming more common, actually, and Parrish would have been lying if he said he didn't like it. But he made himself focus on the moment. He nodded, and sat back down. He didn't plan on it, and he didn't think he was going to share, but it was kind of his turn and he started easy because neither of them knew much about his history. Where he was born, where he grew up, and where he went to college. But when Stiles heard that he had majored in biotechnology, his surprise was enough for him and Derek combined.

"But.. you're in the police force?" Parrish slowly explained about his parents' disappearance, the case that was never solved and what pushed him to become a deputy. The one case he could never solve. Both Derek and Stiles put a hand on his knee but he just smiled stiffly, even though the contact really did help. He wasn't done, though, and Stiles knew that better than anyone. So, when Stiles backed off to give him space, Derek did too. Slowly, he told them about Ally.

"You have a daughter?" Derek wasn't accusatory, but he was clearly and rightfully surprised.

"She's six and she lives with her mother in New York. Her mother, Lucy, got me banned from visiting her and took her across the country because she told the judge my job was too dangerous and put Ally at risk. I talk to her on the phone once a month but she's six so how much can tht really mean to her?" They both comforted him, or at least tired, but it was mostly silent after that.

"I hope I get to meet her someday" Derek finally said, his voice soft. And somehow that was the best possible thing either of them could have said in that moment. Parrish was surprised at himself to find that he was crying but he was smiling and he nodded. And then they were all hugging. With such deep, heavy stuff on the table they decided to leave it where it was.

They settled into their respective spots on the couch to play some mario kart. After fierce battles, they headed off to bed and Parrish fell asleep with them, his key on the dresser, for the first time in a long time not doubting a single minute of what was happening because it felt right. Absolutely, one hundred percent right.

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Thanks for reading! As always, please review/favorite/follow and share!


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